


As Always

by Nikoleta



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Genre: Angst and Feels, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-14
Updated: 2013-01-14
Packaged: 2017-11-25 11:57:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/638669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nikoleta/pseuds/Nikoleta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Last words were important. They reflect your whole life in just one statement. Hers was simple. Just one word, and it broke him.</p>
<p>“James.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	As Always

**Author's Note:**

  * For [subzerometeor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/subzerometeor/gifts).



> I'm not that equipped with knowledge about the fandom, so forgive me.
> 
> This is set looooooong after everything else. I hope you enjoy it!

He sniffed and downed his drink once more. He welcomed the burn that felt its way down his throat, and poured more on his glass. His eyes were red, his nose was watery, his throat felt sandy and rough. He looked at the clock. It was nearly midnight. He had been in the bar since the funeral. It’s been nearly eight hours, yet he never so much as moved from his stool.

 

Noise continued to erupt behind him – a mixture of mumbles and shouts and clapping and tapping of toes as people danced as musical instruments played cheerfully, and he’d successfully ignored it for the past eight hours, but the cheerful music stopped all of a sudden. Slowly, the mood of the pub changed. The whole room was suddenly as cheerful as he was.

 

He looked at the clock as it striked midnight. He sniffed again as he raised his glass.

 

His voice broke as he whispered to the wind, “Happy birthday, Jessie.”

 

He downed his drink once again, as another set of wave of pain came crashing down on him.

 

Last words were important. They reflect your whole life in just one statement. Hers was simple. Just one word, and it broke him.

 

“James.”

 

It was the last thing she said, before she took the blow. He closed his eyes as the scene started playing before him. He inhaled, as if preparing for the pain that was sure to come.

 

She said it softly, almost as if she was accepting what was about to come. She said it in a way he’d never thought could be possible for a woman like her. A woman so fierce and strong-willed and determined to do what she knew she was born to do. He’d never thought he’d hear her say something – more so his very own name – in such a soft, tender way.

 

And it hurt him to know that she won’t be able to say anything else.

 

To some point, he’s glad that that was what she chose to say in her last dying breath. He was glad that he was able to hear her say something so tender, even if it was the first and last time he’d be able to hear it. He was glad she chose to utter his name, before...

 

James sniffed once again, not giving a damn about what he looked like right now. He probably looked wrecked, what with his tear lines visible on his face and red-rimmed eyes and dried lips. But he didn’t mind, for the music started to relate to him.

 

_Nobody said it was easy. No one ever said it would be so hard._

He gulped down his drink, and his head started feeling dizzy. He turned his head a bit, trying to listen to the constant, noisy chatter that never failed to ease his mind, but there was none. He looked around the bar, and blinked a few times. Everyone in the pub was looking at him sympathetically. A random person walked up to him  and gave him a drink. He stared at it, memories of the past suddenly flitting themselves in his mind. He sighed, closed his eyes, and drank the whole thing down.

 

_I’m going back to the start._

He could see her smirk, that always looked so beautiful on her, and he’d always wanted to tell her that, but they’d never had time. He could see her eyes, so enthusiastic and bright, and mischievous, and sometimes, if he was lucky, soft.

 

One particular night, they had a special conversation, the only one James ever cared to remember word for word, not like there was much to remember, but still. They were going undercover in a small town that time. They had one chance to catch that rat, and they were going to grab that chance tomorrow. That night, they had it all to themselves.

 

James went to the town pub that night, contemplating things. So deep in thought was he that he never saw Jessie walking towards him, and was startled when she grasped his shoulder tightly.

 

He turned and, seeing it was his teammate, blinked a few times. “Jessie,” he breathed out.

 

_Come up to meet you. Tell you I’m sorry. You don’t know how lovely you are._

 

Jessie smirked. He was about to tell her that that smirk always looked beautiful on her, but the more time passed, the more the chance faded away, as it always did. He felt a twist in his stomach, and tried to swallow his regret. Jessie nodded, “James. What are you doing here?”

 

She sat down beside his stool, and ordered a drink of her own. It was easy for them to get a drink here. The town was small. They didn’t know who they truly were. They could simply run away before the bartenders could catch them. After all, that was what they’re good at – running away.

 

He voiced out what he was thinking, “Running away.”

 

Jessie snorted and drank, “As always.”

 

Somehow, the whole thing meant something else entirely. And they both knew it.

 

James was wailing now. A complete mess. His face was wet, a combination of perspire, spilled alcohol, and saliva. He didn’t care anymore. Once upon a time, he cared about his reputation. If someone told him he was going to be a sobbing, pitiful old man when he grew up a few years’ back, he would have laughed at their faces. If they told him the reason, he would have accepted what they said.

 

But the reason had never been visible. Not until now.

 

They had their whole life to tell each other what they meant to each other. They met, they got separated, and met again. They became teammates, acted as something more than that at some point in their lives, yet willed themselves to be oblivious. They had more than enough opportunities to say it. Yet they didn’t.

 

James closed his eyes as the memories invaded him once more.

 

Memories of her, dressed in white, a thin veil covering her face, and James didn’t know it then, but he was sure she was crying behind it. She wished him to be the one to walk her down the aisle, and James didn’t know it then, but somehow, he hoped that she wished she got married to him instead.

 

As they walked down the aisle, and stared straight ahead, he willed himself to think it was true – that they were walking down the aisle together, with her as his bride-to-be, rather than just his best friend. Even for one sinful moment, he did.

 

Memories of her, still standing beside him, despite the fact that she has a husband to go home to. Memories of her, being so close, yet never close enough. Memories of her, looking at him, giving him looks that hinted that she wanted to be with him.

 

And that is the curse of the stubborn for you, never being able to truly say what they truly feel, what they truly want, and now that the chances are gone, well, I suppose they deserved to be shouted at. And James wished he was being shouted at by the only person who shouted at him, because that person is dead.

 

_It’s such a shame for us to part._

He was shouting at the pub now, as the nightmares came back. “Jessieeee!!!! Come back! Please!” He held his head between his hands, shouting, begging, pleading.

 

“James.” One word.

 

“NO!” And it broke him apart.

  
He trashed around the pub. He felt people restrain him, yet he didn’t stop. Why should he? Pain demanded to be felt.

 

“Please don’t abandon me!”

 

 “Don’t worry. I won’t leave you.”

 

Now he’s making trouble, as he always did.

 

But no one was there to make it double. Because she was gone. To hell with being rich, he thought, no amount of money will ever bring her back from the dead.

 

With that, he ran away.

 

As always. 

**Author's Note:**

> This is a birthday gift to a certain Rocketshipper friend of mine. Happy birthday, fireinmypants!


End file.
